


Burned Into Memory

by CaptainYesaniChan



Category: Minecraft Diarie, aphmau - Fandom
Genre: Angst, CAUSE GUESS WHO RAN WITH IT, Gen, Memory Loss, Torture, also WHO GAVE GENE A KNIFE GENE NO-, anyways canon should not have told us about laurance being transformed via torture, be careful, i dumped all my cool and sexy sk hcs in here cause im sexy, im indirect about it but like you can definitely visualize it so be warned, laurance goes through hell and barely remembers it :), laurance im so sorry I swear i love you, this is like hella fucked up though, vylad is cryptic who knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainYesaniChan/pseuds/CaptainYesaniChan
Summary: "What happened to you in the Nether?"He had gone blind. Had gone deaf. Had seen hell and forgot its face.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	Burned Into Memory

**Author's Note:**

> LEGIT PLEASE IF YOU THINK YOU CANT STOMACH THIS PLEASE DONT READ HERES A SUMMARY: LAURANCE SUFFERS.

His head was pounding as furiously as his heart, it was pressing tightly to his skull and all he wanted was to slam it against a wall to try and relieve the pain. Dust settled quickly as Castor turned to face him and Aphmau, a rare stern expression on the shaman’s face. That barrier would only hold for so long

“You need to go,” his voice held a determination that slowly crept up upon the rest of himself, overpowering the rampant pounding of his head.

“ … No!” he barely caught that last word, nausea washing over him. She shifted out of his focus, disappearing down what looked like a stairwell. It was hard to tell with his eyes watering at the sulfuric air and suffocating heat.

His hand spun his sword around slowly in an attempt to drag himself back into focus, deep breaths accompanied the motion and his vision cleared slightly. He turned and saw a pair of figures clamber up the cliffside and disappear over the ledge to the only escape route. He sighed relieved and steadied himself in front of the weakening barrier, shield and sword raised and at the ready.

A low roar shook through the halls of the fortress, raining more dust and stones onto his fiery head of hair. He shook as much out as possible and lowered himself into a crouch. 

The pounding slammed into his skull, and he heard a dissonant cry break out into the air followed by a thud. His sword and shield cast aside with a clatter, hands clawed around his head ripping out small chunks of hair in desperation.

He couldn’t bring himself to look up when the barrier crumbled, and the shadow rushed out with a scream. The sound grated into his ears, forcing him to curl up into himself even further, desperate for relief. His throat burned, and cool tears dried impossibly quick on his face, the toxic air seeped into him and set him on fire. He wailed and clawed at himself to try and rip the flames out from where they were within him, charring his heart and lungs to lifeless ash. His breathing sped up, clinging to whatever air he could still gulp down.

His fingers felt wet for a split second for drying, flakes of red fluttering off his torn skin like snow. Bright green eyes burned as he stared at the phenomenon, before forcing themselves shut simply because he couldn’t take it any longer. 

He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and couldn’t live.

———————————

“ … later, we’ll see how this turns…” His ears, he had ripped his ears off, hadn’t he? He had ripped up a lot of things likely since that was all his memory chose to supply at the moment. It was strange listening to someone when you no longer had ears. He breathed, and his ruined eyes saw his mutilated nose lying a short distance away from him, a little flimsy thing he likely had also ripped off.

Why did he rip everything off again? Probably were broken, and had to get new ones. That would make sense, his brain supplied, except he had no such ability.

“...to check off the list.” A voice came from his side, his left. “Still too slowly for my liking but…”

“Do… do I… still have my nose?” His voice shuddered out his throat, cracking from disuse.

The voice moved closer to him, “You have a nose, Laurance.”

“Am I dead?”

“I wouldn’t be here if you died,” his eyes finally spotted the owner of the voice, a familiar head of long white hair and a scowl. “Do you know what you are now?”

He grunted as he tried to move, “In pain?”

“Try again, I know you’re smarter than this.”

Breathing was still hard in this atmosphere, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen. “I don’t know… Sasha.”

“At least you remember something.” She crossed her arms and shook her head, “Use your head and think about it, won’t you?”

Something thick rose up in his throat and filled his mouth, he gagged and spat it out before staring at the mess. “Well, that’s new.”

“You just coughed up blood, but that’s one way to put it.”

He looked a little longer before focusing his attention back on Sasha, “Wouldn’t it be faster if you just told me what’s going on? These chains are just not doing it for me,” he rattled them to prove his point and raised his brows.

“I know you aren’t this dense but what do I care? You are dying Laurance, and the Abyss is offering you a way out.” She stepped closer and poked him in the chest, he groaned in response, “No mortal soul will survive here for long, and you certainly won’t.”

The air still hurt his eyes but he fought to keep them open, “I’m not planning to stick around, terrible place to live.” 

“Then you will die and join the chorus.”

He closed one of his eyes, something had dripped over it and he couldn’t wipe it away, “Fine by me.”

———————————

At least with Sasha, he could give his poor voice some use and get a response. But only one other person ever came to visit, and he stayed eerily quiet. He asked about him, and Sasha had rolled her eyes and thrown a dagger into his arm. “He’s not the quiet type usually, but its Gene so what the hell do I know?”

That dagger was still lodged into his arm maybe weeks later when his only other companion came calling. “Do me a favor?” Laurance had called, opening his one good eye that hadn’t been glued shut by blood yet. “Get this damn dagger out of me, it’s starting to itch.”

He didn’t. Instead, he sat there a distance away and watched. Laurance tried to watch him too and see if he could outlast him, but his eyes were as heavy as his arms. Sore and leaden, too painful to keep open for long. He blinked and looked around, he was gone. Again.

———————————

The next time he opened his eyes, he was on the floor. His arms still felt heavy as he dragged them out in front of him and hoisted himself up. He took an easy deep breath and looked around. On shaking legs, he breathed hard as he tried to balance himself. He had hardly taken a step before stumbling back onto the ground, hissing out a string of curses.

“Take another breath,” an unfamiliar voice said.

He took the advice, and his lungs were grateful. 

“Take another,” the voice continued, “Then stand up.”

His head felt clearer as he breathed and he looked at his visitor as best as he could. “Didn’t know other people knew I existed,” he tried to joke, ignoring how annoyingly his throat still burned.

Something stung his head, spikes running through each and every hair. He cried out, his throat drying up into a sore and painful mess. His calves barely touched the ground, he felt like a doll hanging in the air as his visitor held him up with a stare. Laurance blinked rapidly, trying to see anything. The room was quiet as he tried to understand just what his visitor was doing save for his panting, desperate to get air into his lungs.

“You need more time, you’re much too frail,” He finally spoke, anger in his voice. “Can’t stand yet I’m sure of it, don’t you think Sasha?”

“I think you’re taking too long, the portal may be closed but we don’t know for how long.” Laurance’s poor eyes could see her white hair shine in the red light, standing out in the dark. Something was kicked across the floor, “He’s making a mess.”

“He’s a newborn, most are like that.”

“Newborns don’t constantly regrow everything months after their birth.”

Laurance had to laugh, even if it hurts like hell, “Even in hellfire you still sound icy, does anything ever affect you, Sasha?”

He could hear her walk closer, and hissed as five sharp points dug themselves into his skin, “You’re affecting me right now, what’s taking you so damn long?”

He couldn’t answer, the truth was on his tongue but what words could he find for what he was right now? No gods in their heavenly seats or devils howling from their perches could explain the balance he found himself in. He wanted to laugh again, laugh for so long he could stop breathing and turn cold and blue. He shivered in the heat, it was just as awful as before back when his arms didn’t ache so much from hanging by them. 

“I-I’m alone,” his voice shook, the whisper it was rattled his bones and made his head hurt even more. 

He heard something crumple to the floor, then sobbing and a whine after it got kicked. 

“Like I said, he’s a mess in this state.”

That something started to choke and cough, it couldn’t breathe anymore. The air was too thick and toxic for their frail lungs. 

“I have an idea since he can’t seem to survive the climate right now, train him to do so.”

“Have fun with that.”

———————————

The next time his eyes opened was because his skin felt very cool before turning red hot and raging. His eyes opened because screams woke him up. He felt very hot like the sun had found a new home within his skin. 

“Look at me.”

He shuddered and tried to find where the fire was coming from.

Something cold and flat was pressed into his skin making his throat hurt again from yells before being pulled away.

“Look at me.” The voice was ordering him again, so he tried to listen. Something silver shone in the light this time, by the very tip by his nose. He flinched as something wet dripped onto his nose, forcing him to wrinkle it up in disgust.

“Why react so poorly to a little blood? It is yours after all.”

The silver was pressed into his skin and slid down the cut of his jaw, pulling another cry out his throat. 

“You scream awfully loud when I’m just trying to help, you know? Don’t you know you’ll disappear without me here, ripping you to shreds?” The voice sunk into him like honey, thick and heavy. “You can’t be reborn properly without starting from scratch, so let me help you start over.”

He kept screaming.

———————————

He opened his eyes for the first time, staring up at a ceiling made of sharp spikes that almost glittered like metal when the light moved just right. He couldn’t scream for help, or move out of the way from the danger hanging over him. He felt like a sheet laid across the floor, paper-thin and torn to bits by cruel hands and even crueler minds. 

———————————

He opened his eyes for the second time when something feathery brushed his skin and he flinched away from it. It hurt him more than his head thought it should even if his ruined skin argued otherwise.

“Are you ever going to get yourself off the floor?”

He groaned and shut his eyes again.

———————————

He opened his eyes for the third time when he took a breath. It was shaky and hard to swallow the thick sulfuric air but he did it anyway. He could feel arms connected to his shoulders and legs attached to his hips. 

Without a thought he rolled over only to cry out, small rocks stuck into his skin and created pockets of sharp knives in his bare arms. Using his aching palms he pulled himself off the floor and studied himself.

His skin was raw and pink, dotted with dark red pebbles that he had to pick out carefully so as to not hurt himself anymore. He could see something shredded cast all around him, a dirty and ruined white. He poked it with his big toe, it felt soft but not as soft as his skin. He had a limp as he pulled his deadweight legs towards a narrow tower window only to see bright burning orange lava, so bright he had to close his eyes again. Something hit the floor and Laurance’s scalp felt wet with something new.

———————————

He opened his eyes for the last time, seeing the world on its side. He pulled himself off the floor, it didn’t sting. He looked down at the floor, something had dried around him and there was a small trail of it leading up the wall to the window ledge. How curious. 

His hands were black but shone like freshly oiled leather in the light, he wasn’t sure why but he didn’t mind the extra layer. He used his hands to steady himself against the rough brick walls as he walked towards the only doorway in sight. 

Stepping out he glanced as two stone-like soldiers stood on either side. He stumbled forward and caught himself on the other side of the hallway, his forehead scraping against the stone and leaving a trail of something a brighter red than the rest of the scenery behind. He clung to the wall and continued his shamble down the unfamiliar hall.

———————————

He coughed and Sasha glared at him, “What did I just say?”

“You said something?”

She shook her head, “Forget it.” She stared out over the railing of the balcony with him, watching the lines of soldiers tiredly.

“How did I get here?”

“You walked here, and I followed you.”

“How did I get here?”

“You just asked that.”

“And what did you say?”

“That you walked here.”

“Oh.”

———————————

He stared at the odd sight, it was completely different from everything else he knew. “What is that around your neck?”

A quiet voice answered from behind the bars, “A scarf.”

“I don’t recognize anything like that.”

He nodded his head slowly, “It’s different from the rest of the Nether, isn’t it?” That quiet voice continued, “Its green.”

“Are your eyes also green?” He had to ask, the question rushed out from him as he sat down as close as possible, leaning forward.

He made no move to come closer and only nodded again, “So are your eyes as well. They’re brighter than mine, like gems.”

He glanced down, hair tumbling in his face and making him jump at the sight of it. His scalp still hurt from phantom pains. His arms were heavy but only because there was a heavy layer of something metallic on them, layered on top of each other like scaly plates. “It’s different.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How did I not know that?”

The quiet voice paused, “I think because you are choosing not to.”

He furrowed his brow, “Why would I choose that?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m not the one who choose now am I?”


End file.
